


A Fractured Soul's Reprieve

by hopelesslyromanticshippertrash



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Sex, Heavy Angst, M/M, using sex to ease the pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelesslyromanticshippertrash/pseuds/hopelesslyromanticshippertrash
Summary: Pike struggles with the pain and fear following his vision of the future in 2x12. Spock is there to provide the comfort he needs. Going to be Pike/Spock cause I like it and Pike needs some hugs and good comfort sex...





	A Fractured Soul's Reprieve

"Computer, time."

"The time is, 0400 hours, 23 minutes."

Pike groans and sits up, the smooth, silk-like material of his bed sheet rippling as he does so. He runs a hand through his hair and swallows. 

How is it that his brain feels like sand and like it's on fire all at once?

'I'm probably never going to sleep again. Not properly,' he thinks to himself, feeling the dull weight settle a little deeper at the pit of his stomach. How is he even going to begin to tackle the weight of this? The dread is consuming him piece by piece, slowly turning him inside out. How can no one see it, pressing down on him until sometimes it's all he can do not to scream or shout in the middle of a quiet turbo lift or bustling mess hall?

With a groan he swings himself round, tapping his feet down onto the floor and standing up, trying to stretch. Even his body feels heavy, as though being pulled down by an invisible anchor.

An image flashes into his mind, only there for a fraction of a second, but it's enough. The writhing, mangled distortion of his own being, crying back to him, a scream of pain so deep and resonant that for a full minute after it comes back to his mind, Pike thinks he's going to be sick. He swallows, taking slow, shaky breaths. When he feels ready he staggers to the replicator for a glass of water.

He's thought several times about speaking to Admiral Cornwell under her counsellor hat. But how can he fully explain the depth of this feeling? That his soul is dying, shrieking to be set free from his body before it all happens and he's trapped within himself forever. How could she ever understand that, and even if she could, how would he live with himself knowing that she might take him off duty, and even if she did it probably wouldn't be enough to stop this from happening. Being Captain Pike is all he has left now. He's realised with a grim amusement that it's probably the one thing that will cement this future for him now, being unable to relinquish the one thing in his life that still brings him purpose, even if he only feels a semblance, a shred of that purpose now.

He doesn't know what compels him to pull on his basic grey t shirt and trousers but he will go crazy lying on that bed all night, reliving the vision as though it had already happened to him. 

For the first ten seconds, as he steps out into the artificial illumination of his corridor, naturally dimmed and toned to imitate a sunset type light (Tilly's suggestion, the higher ups went mad for it), he kids himself that he's just going to walk the corridors for an hour or two until he feels settled enough to attempt sleep.

It isn't until five minutes have passed and he's stepping out of an empty turbolift that he realises his feet have almost taken him to the quarters of one person in particular.

Spock.


End file.
